To Soothe The Thoughts That Plague Me So
by NoOneOfConsequence
Summary: Josh is the only staffer not concerned over an upcoming televised interview
1. Prelude

Disclaimer: Not mine, Sorkin's. Well, except for Barbara Walters, but I refuse to take credit for her, either. Notes: I took a few, small creative liberties with the time line. I don't feel I rubbed too heavily against the grain of continuity. I have long since believed that our friends on the West Wing are the single most emotionally repressed group of characters on television. It is from that perspective that I wrote this story. The title comes from Sting's "Be Still My Beating Heart". Thanks to my newly found (and much appreciated) beta reader, Peggie, for seeing that which I didn't. This story has been updated and beta read through the first chapter.  
  
-PRELUDE- (February 2003) -  
  
"Hey, Josh." CJ Cregg stood in the doorway to the office of the Deputy Chief of Staff. "Do have a second?"  
  
Josh Lyman was hanging up his overcoat after having just returned to his office. "Yeah, only a second, though. That meeting went about an hour longer than it should have." Josh was a flurry of motion as he situated himself behind his desk. With a loud "thud", he heaved his overstuffed backpack from the floor to his desk.  
  
"You've only been gone," she said, looking at her watch, "an hour and fifteen minutes," she commented, quizzically.  
  
"Yeah, you see my point?" There was an undercurrent of annoyance to his voice, but that didn't overshadow his buoyant mood.  
  
CJ had always been fascinated by how, at any given time, Josh could radiate a spectrum of moods all at the same time. He was one of the least single- minded people she had ever known and, considering that he always had eight or nine issues demanding his immediate attention at any point during the day, his talent for mental divergence was an important contributing factor to his success.  
  
"So, the meeting was a waste of time?" asked CJ.  
  
"Totally. Stackhouse is off on a tangent."  
  
"Oh, great," commented CJ, sarcastically. Howard Stackhouse was no political force and garnered little respect from his fellow members of the Senate, but the White House staff liked the old curmudgeon. It seemed, from time to time, he went out of his way to cause trouble for President Bartlet.  
  
"He wants to re-establish the draft," explained Josh.  
  
"Why?" asked CJ, amazed.  
  
"Because there is only one member of the Senate who has a child in the military. There are only 18 senators and 43 congressmen who have ever served in the military," Josh rattled off the statistics he had, no doubt, just received from Stackhouse, "and only one member of the White House staff who has ever served in the military, and that doesn't count the commander-in-chief." As he spoke, he was rifling through his backpack, pulling out an improbable amount of material from it's interior.  
  
"This is about the inaugural speech, isn't it?" Said CJ, rolling her eyes.  
  
"No doubt. He's got a bug up his ass about our shift in foreign policy. If we're going to be sending kids off to war, he want rich kids going, too." Josh sighed as he continued to rummage through his bag. Out came several files, a notebook and a battered-beyond-recognition day planner.  
  
CJ was becoming amused at Josh's rummaging, "You know," she teased, "I could give you pointers on organizing your purse there..."  
  
Josh chuckled, "That wouldn't be manly, would it?" he asked. "Anyway, it's not a purse and to underline that point, purses are made of calf skin whereas this," he held up his backpack, "is made of masculine rip stop nylon and see," he pointed to the tag on the front, "it's made by a manly, outdoorsy sounding company named High Sierra, not Gucci."  
  
"Does it come with matching pumps?" snickered CJ. She returned to the subject of Stackhouse, "So, he's just trying to make a point?" asked CJ.  
  
"Yeah. He wants to make a point about how it would be easier for us to use the military if it's only poor kids and minorities going to fight and not a bunch of rich kids of senators," explained Josh, "He tried to tell me the draft levels the playing field."  
  
"But he doesn't really want the draft to come back," stated CJ.  
  
"No. He is being ironical," Josh sneered.  
  
"But he has a point," countered CJ  
  
"What is it?" asked Josh, "To make my life miserable? A-ha!" he exclaimed. Deep in his bag, he had found the object of his search. He pulled out his impossibly overstuffed and often misplaced wallet.  
  
"Well, there's that and the fact that the US military is 28% black but the population of the United States is only 12% black and most people enlist in the Army and because for a lot of kids below the poverty line it's better than working at McDonalds for the rest of their lives."  
  
"I know, I know, but still..." Josh knew Stackhouse was making an excellent point but he wished he wouldn't use the United States congress to do it. He was one of very few members of congress that Josh had ever encountered who did his job with nothing but altruistic intent and Josh respected him immensely for that. "He's still a pain in the ass and," he added, "this is going to get at least some media attention."  
  
"Which is exactly what he wants," CJ observed, rolling her eyes.  
  
"What did you need?" asked Josh.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You came in here for something or was it just to harass me about my purse?" asked Josh.  
  
Having been brought back to the topic of her visit to his office, CJ's posture changed slightly to one of slight apprehension. She came fully into his office and sat in the chair in front of his desk.  
  
"Josh..." she hesitated.  
  
"Oh, God, what did I do?" asked Josh, as he noticed the change in CJ's expression.  
  
"No...no...nothing," she was stammering for words, which was always a warning sign that the usually acutely articulate press secretary had weighty (and often somber) information to deliver.  
  
Josh's attention was now fully on CJ. His face was apprehensive. CJ hated that look. Having worked with Josh for five years, she had become adept at reading his expression. When he looked at her like this, she always thought he appeared more a kid than a hard nosed political strategist.  
  
"What's going on?" he asked.  
  
"I talked to David West this morning." She said.  
  
"I have absolutely no idea who that is."  
  
She told him, "He's the executive producer for '20/20'."  
  
"And?" clearly, she didn't want to deliver this news. It made Josh nervous.  
  
There was a long pause. CJ finally sighed deeply and said, "Carl Leroy is granting them an interview."  
  
There was dead silence in the room. Josh's expression didn't change. The name CJ had spoken hung in the air almost tangibly. Josh blinked a few times but didn't move - didn't change expression.  
  
"Okay," he finally said without inflection. He bowed his head for the briefest of instances than looked back at CJ. There was no flash of anger or fear in his expression. "Anything else? 'Cause I've got this pile of briefing memos I have to dig into before.you know." He waved his hand over the pile of folders he had removed from his back pack. "I've got, like, four meetings this afternoon." He flashed her a brief, dismissive smile.  
  
She sat for a short interval until her observation of him became conspicuous. Josh looked up "Really, CJ. It's okay."  
  
"It is?" she asked him, tipping her head slightly, betraying her skepticism. Josh knew she was anticipating more.  
  
"Yeah," he said, betraying nothing. He started paging through a memo.  
  
"Okay." She stood up. "I'll be around." she told him, reassuringly. She meant it in a way that would indicate that she would be there if he needed to talk. She wondered if he understood the nuance. She also knew better than to belabor the point with Josh. She walked out the door but not before glancing over the shoulder at the deputy chief-of-staff. He was deeply immersed in his reading.  
  
As she left, she found herself taken aback by how calmly Josh had dismissed this news. After she had initially talked to the executive producer and he informed her of the interview, she was immediately apprehensive about how Josh would take it. She didn't think he'd take it as he had, but what did she expect? Did she expect him to get angry? Did she expect him to start throwing things? Did she expect him to break down? In retrospect, she didn't know. This nonchalant, unemotional response was not what she had expected at all. But, then again, often times, trying to predict Josh's reaction to various bits of information was like trying to predict the path of a drop of water dancing across a red-hot griddle. This calm, controlled reaction was chilling.  
  
--Am I being over protective?-- she thought. A few years earlier, she had had the same thought. Everyone had seen Josh struggle. They had all seen signs, but kept quiet for too long. 


	2. Part One

**-PART ONE - (After Roslyn)**

They were all protective of Josh in those first few days after the shooting. CJ kept the press at bay. She had drawn a line in the sand. Most of the press liked Josh. He was, after all, guy with the secret plan to fight inflation. Occasionally, an over zealous reporter would ask questions of a personal nature. It would be about Josh's mom or family history and CJ would conduct an impromptu master class on the art of the subtle put down. Most of the reporters knew where the line was and that CJ would not allow to be crossed. Josh was only two days removed from almost loosing his life and Josh Lyman was more than just a news story to CJ. The press knew this and was respectful.

Other staffers found their own ways to protect Josh. Toby had become proactive. He would have driven an Abraham's tank through the front door of the headquarters of West Virginia White Pride were he given permission to do so.  Leo took on the job of two men. He steadfastly refused to bring anyone in on an interim basses to assume Josh's duties even after he found out the length of time Josh would be recuperating. He worked without his deputy and had to be coaxed to farm some of Josh's responsibilities to other members of the senior staff. There was a hole in the staff that Leo refused to fill. Sam took on as many of Josh's responsibilities as he was able. He dove into his work. Each, in their own ways, found a way to protect their friend. They did so because it was all they could do and it helped them ignore the powerlessness they all felt.

Those first few days after the shooting were full of optimism for Josh's recovery. Within thirty-six hours, he was lucid enough to acknowledge visitors. He was in dire physical pain and highly medicated and became easily exhausted by even short conversations. He understood the extent of his injuries and was already complaining about the length of time he would be hospitalized. It was evident to all who visited that Josh was in great pain, but he did what could not to show it. 

At seventy-two hours he was able pay attention to the television. A voracious watcher of news, he would flip from CNN to Headline News to MSNBC and CSPAN. There was always news about the shooting and Josh would stop flipping, transfixed by the videos of the event that he couldn't remember. There were several angles of the shooting provided by the various media outlets who had sent reporters to film the town hall meeting. Josh would watch the videos as if they were his personal Zepruder tapes and tried to reconstruct what happened on that day. His friends were concerned with his exposure to these images, but said nothing. 

Soon, he was released from the ICU to a room in the cardiac wing of GW. It felt to everyone as if a corner had been turned. 

The infection set in on the sixth day. It sent Josh back to the ICU and the days that followed were more frightening than the initial surgery. It had appeared with a voracious suddenness that left everyone, including the surgeons, terrified. Josh had been laid open for over 12 hours on the operating table six days earlier and, despite all precaution, the infection had made its way into his system. His condition declined so rapidly and took everyone by surprise. His fever seemed uncontrollable and he coughed incessantly. It threatened to compromise the work done by the doctors that had saved Josh's life.

Toby sat with Donna at Josh's bedside the evening he had been readmitted to the ICU. The pain, coughing and 103 degree fever cast Josh into a state of delirium. Twice, Josh had ventured off into nightmare mumblings which left Toby paralyzed. Donna stood by Josh's side and firmly called his name until he woke. Toby was taken aback by the expression on his face when his eyes shot open. There was a look of pure, unvarnished terror in Josh's eyes. It was a look that Toby had never seen there and hoped to never see again. He did nothing as Donna gently guided him out of his nightmare and his eyes began to focus on reality. He turned his head from Donna to Toby.  Josh looked at him for a moment, but said nothing before drifting back to sleep. Josh's mom, who had arrived while Josh was still undergoing his surgery, was not at the hospital during these times. Toby wondered if it was too much for her to see her son like this.

The next day, the senior staff was called to the residence. CJ, Toby, Leo and Sam sat with the president while the first lady explained to them the gravity of Josh's condition. Rather than allowing the surgeons at George Washington to break the news to them, Abby had insisted on speaking to them herself. She distilled down the medical jargon to the essentials and, with great compassion, explained to them the danger he was in. He had a staph infection and the doctors were unable to control his fever. Fluid was collecting in his lungs and he was in respiratory distress. He had been sedated and reintubated to help him breath. His condition had been downgraded from stable to critical.

There was a long silence after she spoke the grim news. Everyone was struggling to maintain their composure, even the president, but no tears flowed. Leo rubbed his temples with one hand. He had a particular closeness to Josh. He was an old friend of the Lyman family and throught of Josh's mother. She had lost one child and had also lost her husband. Now there was the possibility that she would loose her other child.  It was easier for Leo to think of someone else's pain. The thought of loosing the man who was like his  son was unbearable. Josh was his fiercely loyal deputy who would do anything for Leo. Josh would sooner swallow glass than fail him.

With great hesitation and an almost imperceptible crack to his voice, Leo quietly addressed Abby, "What are his chance?"

"There are so many variables," Abby started to explain, "the doctors need identify the extent of the infection. They need to find the right course of antibiotics. Intubation comes with its own set of complications..."

"Abby," the president gently prodded her to answer Leo's question.

She answered, "Fifty/fifty would be optimistic."

There was more silence as the news sunk in. Numbers and statistics were often the backbone of good political debate, but this was not politics. This was family. The numbers brought no comfort.  Sam rubbed his eyes, perhaps ridding them of  threatening tears. CJ and Toby both stared blankly ahead. Leo regarded President Bartlet, who, still convalescing from his own injuries, looked tired and older than his years. He looked at the members of his staff. Leo could see an expression in his old friend's eyes that he had only seen few other times. It was a look of utter and complete helplessness.

Charlie, who had been standing near the door on the periphery of the gathering, finally broke the silence, "Have you talked to Donna, Ma'am?" he asked the first lady.

They had all been concerned with Donna, who was so completely dedicated to Josh. She had been so withdrawn and pensive the evening of the shooting. She hadn't cried in front of the staff. She had been so close to tears when Toby had initially broken the news to her, but none of them had seen her cry. She would leave the private waiting room for several minutes and come back with red eyes. It was evident that she was grieving alone. Once, Sam had followed her out of the waiting room but she had told him, with a weak smile, that she was fine and that she just needed to use the rest room. Sam hadn't pursued the issue and let her go. They had all let her go. She had taken the role of Josh's protector.  She had spent every day at his side with Josh's mother. Donna had also taken on the role of caretaker to Josh's mom. She had made sure she had warm coffee and gave up the comfortable chair next to his bed when she needed rest. Where she found the strength, nobody knew, but she was a paragon. She also had taken on the role of traffic cop in the hospital room and made sure that none of the staff stayed too long and trying to insure that Josh wasn't being overtaxed by the flow of well wishers.

"I was with her this morning. Josh's surgeon and I talked to Mrs. Lyman and Donna," she explained. 

Abby's statement was left to hang in the air. The pain and fear in the room was palpable. There was more silence.

Finally, Leo looked at President Bartlet, who gave him a slight nod.

"Thank you, everyone," he spoke as if adjourning a staff meeting. Everyone slowly rose to their feet and thanked the president, then thanked Abby. The left the residence and returned to their offices, each alone, to resume their duties.

That night, Toby, CJ and Sam visited Josh at the hospital. They stayed as long as the doctors and Donna would allow. They were all becoming accustomed to her heavy handed dealing when it came to protecting him and totally accepted her authority. She was not an assistant and they were not senior staff once they were in the hospital. Donna was Josh's guard dog. She would not back down to any of the staff, with the exception of the president or first lady. Even when Leo had stood toe-to-toe with her and yelled that he just wanted to go in for a half an hour, Donna had not backed down and told him to come back another time because Josh needed to rest. She had displayed a strength that, though frustrating, generated deep respect from the entire staff.

They stood around Josh's bed, saying very little. Josh's mother had stepped out of the room when they arrived, but not before they had recited a series of half-hearted platitudes about how Josh was tough and how he was going to pull through. They had done their best to sound sincere. They stayed for a short time, saying very little to Josh or to each other. He looked bad. The doctors were keeping him in a drug induced coma while he was on the ventilator and small strips of surgical tape kept his eyelids shut. His color was inhumanly gray, like a ghost. Abby was right. Fifty/fifty seemed optimistic.

Afterwards, they had gathered in a small bar not far from GW. Sam tried coaxing Donna along, who herself was looking gaunt and tired, but she declined citing that she was going to pick up dinner for Mrs. Lyman. Toby suggested she come afterwards, but, still, she declined. They all knew they she wouldn't be persuaded. 

After the affects of several stiff drinks, CJ and Sam began talking about Josh and shared a few of their favorite stories. Sam recalled how Josh had, several years ago, delivered a clever come on line to a beautiful woman in a bar only to find out that her boyfriend, who had overheard, was a starting tackle for the Minnesota Vikings. He had managed to charm his way through an apology and the football player ended up buying their next round of drinks. CJ laughed about the time during the campaign that she had accidentally knocked Josh's cell phone off of the balcony railing of the Marriott in Des Moines. Josh had, the next day,  used his best debating skills to convince the poor kid at a local radio shack to honor the phone's warranty even though it looked like the phone had been run over by a truck. Toby said nothing, just listened.   

"I don't know what we're going to do with out him," said Sam, absently. He was not referring to the Bartlet administration surviving the loss of Josh, but, rather, how would each of them be able to get over the loss of their friend.

The comment from Sam was too much for Toby to bear. He exploded without warning.

"No... no... we are _not_ going to do this!" he shouted.

"What?" said Sam, perplexed.

"You two are sitting here having a Goddamned Irish wake!"

"Toby..." CJ tried to calm him.

"I will _not_ sit here and let you talk about him in the _past tense_! I will _not_...."  Toby stammered slightly, then continued. He released his pent up rage on the two people he should have been leaning on the most,  "fifty/fifty is fifty/fifty. Optimistic or not, I will Not... I will _NOT_ sit here and listen to you bury him before he's dead!"

Toby stood up and stormed out of the bar. CJ and Sam were left in stunned silence.


	3. Part Two

**-PART TWO -**

For two days after the incident in the bar CJ and Sam struggled, but performed their duties nonetheless. Toby, on the other hand,  was unbearable. His frustration was vocal and he left a wake of destruction in his path in the form of cowering interns and assistant who might have transgressed in any way. He fumed over how law enforcement agencies were dragging their feet. 

Toby's behavior substantiated rumors that had been existing in the undercurrent of the press room. Questions were starting to trickle in about weather or not there was a psychological aftermath to the shooting. CJ deflected these question with ease but knew that sooner or later, she'd have to discuss them with Toby. It was not the time, however. It would have to wait until they knew how Josh would pull through.

During this time, Josh's condition remained critical. Abby went above and beyond her duties as first lady in acting as a comfort to the staff. She stayed in close contact with Josh's surgeons and relayed the information. She didn't give them false hope because, as a doctor, it was not in her nature. She did provide a sense of comfort that another doctor who was not so personally involved in the case could not.

At eight in the morning on the tenth day after the shooting, she brought the best news of all. The staff had been summoned by the first lady to the oval office. Toby, CJ and Sam had arrived together and, upon entering the room, they knew it was good news. Both the president and Leo had wide smiles on their faces and there was a marked relaxation to their continence. The first lady informed them that Josh's fever was below 100 and all tests indicated that the antibiotics has beaten the infection.  He had been extubated, was breathing easily on his own and was being brought out of his sedation.  

Later that afternoon, the three of them snuck away to visit Josh. It took much schedule wrangling and covert dodging of responsibility but they were able to escape for an hour. It was one of those extraordinarily rare times that CJ, Toby and Sam put their personal desires above those of their offices. Considering the circumstances, none of them cared.

When they approached Josh's room in ICU, they saw Donna standing near the door waiting for them. She was beaming. 

As CJ, Sam and Toby entered the Josh's hospital room, all fear of his survival disappeared permanently. He didn't look well. He didn't quite look like Josh.  He was, however, looking better. The ventilation tube was gone and some of his color had returned. There were still the myriad of IV tubes and monitors, but his spark was visible.

"Hey, mi amore!" said CJ. Her voice was full of warmth.

Toby and Sam followed CJ into the room without saying a word. Donna stood aside and let them enter. 

"Hey," replied Josh as he offered a weak smile. His voice was thick and raspy from the ventilator tube but was like cool water in the desert. Everyone in the room relaxed, visibly.

Each day after that, Josh's condition approved. His friends visited for a while each day and took comfort as they saw him improve. One day, he was lying flat on his back in bed but a few days after that, he was sitting up in a chair, watching television. He refused to wear hospital gowns once the IV's and monitors had been removed and insisted on normal clothes. Donna brought him sweats and t-shirts and tennis shoes. Soon, he could take short forays to the cafeteria, where he could sit and drink decaffeinated coffee and hold short conversations before Donna would usher him away. She worked so hard at keeping him well rested and most of his visitors had no idea how much he had to rally his strength when they visited. In his third week of hospitalization, he started to get board. 

He was sleeping normal hours and, in between, spent his time reading books and watching the discovery channel. Often, he would call one of his colleagues at the west wing and keep them on the phone for long periods of time discussing topics such as hydroponics, cloning or the grand unified theory. The staff allowed Josh to ramble on these topics for long periods of time. Hearing his voice was verification that he was fine. He was recovering.

He was still hungry for information about the shooting. He would scour the magazines and newspapers for new stories. When Carl Leroy had his initial hearings, Josh insisted to see the tapes and watched them repeatedly. Everyone chalked it up to boredom. In reality, he needed to stay in touch with the story to which he had such a personal attachment. 

Through all this, Donna maintained the "rules". After Josh's recovery had become inevitable, Donna had started spending longer and longer hours in the west wing. Josh needed to be in-the-loop and she did her best to keep him occupied with the various minutiae that was filtered to him but made sure that he was never overburdened. The rules became an inside joke among the senior staffers but, at the same time, the rules became a symbol of Josh's recovery. When Donna put her foot down and refused to allow someone to violate the rules, everyone understood that she was doing so in Josh's best interest. 

CJ had visited Josh late in his forth week of recovery. On previous visits, she noticed any time the subject of the shooting had been broached, Josh would strategically deflect any statements or questions that approached the topic. Even though he voraciously read news stories about it, he was reluctant to discuss it.  She would mention something that had been said in a press briefing or something that had appeared in the newspaper regarding Carl Leroy's arrest or hearings and Josh would make a glib statement and change the subject. CJ had decided on this visit, however, that she would have to push past his apprehension of the subject.

"I've has been getting questions about he psychological aftermath of the shooting," she offered Josh, dismissively.

"Huh?" asked Josh, pretending he was half listening.

She restated herself, "They want to do stories how we're dealing with the shooting. If, you know... anyone is having any, you know..." this was uncomfortable ground, "...problems dealing with it."

Josh laughed. "Yeah. Okay. Tell them we're calling in Oprah. We're going to have a national group hug."

CJ laughed back. It was the last conversation she had with Josh on the subject.

The next week, Josh was released from the hospital. His mother returned to her home in Florida the week after that.  Donna made sure that he always had food in his refrigerator and clean laundry. He spent two months locked in his apartment regaining his strength and preparing to resume his duties. At the beginning of the third month after the shooting, he was allowed to leave his apartment for a field trip to the west wing. Donna had prearranged the visit but obliged Josh's wishes that there be no fanfare. He was welcomed warmly by everyone in the office. He met with the president for a short time in the oval office. Josh had insisted on wearing a suit and tie and, when he first entered the west wing, it seemed as it was business as usual. Donna had shadowed him for his entire visit. After the scheduled two hour visit was drawing to a close, she had started to wonder if he would make it back to the car, his exhaustion was so evident. They said quick goodbyes, acknowledged the well wishers and Donna took him home. 

She never told anyone how he fell asleep in the car or how he had been barely able to make it up the stairs to his apartment. He had collapsed in exhaustion on his bed. Donna never told anybody how he broke down. He cried out of frustration at his own weakness. He said nothing and Donna sat beside him until he fell asleep.  

After another month, he resumed his duties. At first, under doctors orders, he returned for six hours a day with limited responsibility.  A week later he was working normal hours and was, physically, back to his old self. He spent some time playing catch-up but, shortly afterwards, he was going full barrel. His presence energized the west wing and, for all appearances, it was business as usual. If given the opportunity, he would have had the president sign a proclamation stating that the assassination attempt at Roslyn was now, officially, a footnote in history for the Bartlet Administration.

Then came the weeks before Christmas.


	4. Part Three

**-PART THREE- (Christmas 2000)**

They all should have seen Josh spiraling out of control. They all, actually, did see it but did not admit it to themselves or others. 

"Sirens," Toby had said to her. "He meant to say 'bagpipes' and he said 'sirens'." 

CJ was confused.

They had both just been witness to a disturbing outburst. Josh had yelled at everyone within earshot to keep the noise down. He compared the volume level to that at a hockey came then slammed his door hard enough to make the windows in the bullpen rattle.

"He was bitching about the bagpipes in the lobby. He's bitched about every group I've brought in so far. I didn't think anything about it other than it was Josh being, well, you know, Josh," Toby's words came forth rapidly and in hushed tones. They were standing in busy, public area and he didn't want to be overheard, "He was bitching about the bagpipes, but said 'I can hear the sirens all over the building'"

"Do you think it has something to do with the Robert Cano thing?" she asked, "he's been harassing me about why there was no more information about the pilot. He went on for twenty minutes yesterday about he and Cano having the same birthday."

This was clearly uncomfortable territory for both of them. CJ knew Toby well and he was, emotionally, a closed book. He dealt with the emotions of others even more ineptly than he disclosed his own. For him to be discussing this with CJ was significant.

"I'm sure it does. He's, I don't know... taking it...badly. The guy, you know..._ killed himself_." Toby was vague with his language. 

CJ suggested they go to her office to continue the conversation. Her experience as press secretary had, perhaps, made her paranoid. The last thing she wanted, however,  was for someone to overhear this conversation.  She wasn't as concerned about the news getting to the press but, rather, Josh overhearing gossip that she and Toby had been having this conversation about him. It would only result in Josh shutting them out and making it more difficult for them to help him.

As soon as the door to CJ's office closed, Toby started in, "I don't think it's just the pilot. I think it's something more."

The discussion was uncomfortable and felt to both of them as if they were betraying Josh in some way. It had to be talked about, though. Toby talked about the night he sat throughout the nightmares with him in the hospital. He commented about how Josh obsessed over news stories of the shooting. CJ acknowledged that she had noticed that, too. She commented on how he had casual deflected her questions about stories regarding the psychological aftermath. They spoke of how, suddenly, Josh seemed to be prone to anger without provocation. He was a passionate man, but his passionate outbursts had previously came with good reasons. In their discussion, they agreed that a disturbing pattern of behavior was apparent.

The decided, with much debate and hesitation, that it was time take the news to Leo. When they arrived, they were surprised to see Donna in the chief of staff's office. Apparently, after his outburst short while ago, she had decided unilaterally to go over Josh's head and speak directly to his boss. She was sitting on the couch in Leo's office looking like the polar opposite of strength that she had portrayed throughout Josh's entire period of recovery. She looked small and fearful and much the same way she did the night of the shooting. If there was something truly wrong with Josh, it might endanger his entire career. It must have felt like an incredible breach of trust for her to come to Leo. 

After hearing the concerns from Toby and CJ, as well as what Donna had told him, Leo said, simply, that he'd take care of it. Toby questioned him as to what "taking care of it" meant. Leo told him not to worry about it and he reiterated that he would take care of it. CJ, Toby and Donna left his office trusting Leo, but not feeling terribly reassured.

Then came the twentieth. In the few days since CJ and Toby had talked to Leo about their concern for Josh, his behavior had remained erratic. They trusted Leo, though. He had a plan. It was that day that Sam had confided in CJ and Toby about the meeting in the oval office. He describe how Josh had, for lack of a better phrase, lost it. He told them how Josh had blown up at the president. When Sam had confronted CJ and Toby, he voiced his concern as if it would be news to them. He expected that  they would be shocked at Sam's revelation. They weren't, to Sam's surprise. CJ explained to Sam how they had already seen Leo about it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam said, sounding hurt. 

"We should have," said Toby. It was an unexpected statement of contrition coming from the communications director. They should have included Sam. Sam had known Josh longer then anyone and it was wrong to exclude him. Sam, thankfully, graciously accepted the apology.

- - - - - 

The Yoyo Ma performance had been spectacular, but Toby had paid little attention to it. As soon as it was over, he went in search of Josh. Toby had noticed how Josh had behaved and it troubled him greatly. During the cocktail reception afterward, Toby scanned the crowd, but could not find him.

"Toby!" Sam called his name and made his way through the crowd to where Toby stood.

"Hey," asked Toby, "Have you seen Josh?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," said Sam. Sam had been sitting directly behind the deputy chief-of-staff during the concert and couldn't help noticing how uncomfortable he was. 

"Call him." commanded Toby. And he walked into the crowd, in search of Josh.

The phone rang three times before Josh answered.

"Hey, we were looking for you," Sam said.

"I'm in my car." 

"Did you leave the party?" asked Sam, ineptly.

"Sam, I'm in my car. What do you think?" answered Josh. There was an air of annoyance to his voice.

"Why'd you leave?" asked Sam.

"I'm tired. I wanted to get some sleep." he replied

There was a moment of dead air while Sam thought of something to say.

"You okay?" It was all Sam could come up with. He didn't know how to interrogate his friend. _'m a lawyer, for God's sake. I should be able to do better than this!_

"Yeah. I'm just tired."

"You... um..." Sam struggled with his words, "We... I noticed that you were... uncomfortable... during the performance tonight."

Again, there was dead air.

"Yeah," said Josh. "I think I had a bad appetizer or something." 

"Josh..."

"Sam, really. I'm fine. It's... I'm.... I'm just tired and want to go to sleep."

Sam wanted more than this but couldn't bring himself to say it. _Why is this so hard? _he thought. He wanted to trust Josh. Josh wouldn't lie to him. 

"Okay," Sam finally answered. "Call me if you need anything." _That was lame _thought Sam.

"Yeah. Okay." Josh discarded Sam's offer. _Sam knows _ Josh felt weak and ashamed and angry all at once. He hated feeling like this.

When Josh arrived at work the next day with a bandaged hand, all his closest associates were alarmed. He blamed it on a broken glass. His story seemed immediately practiced and rehearsed. By the end of the day, his response to those who asked was starting to become quite defensive. His story about the broken glass seemed plausible under normal circumstances, however, nothing felt like normal. Leo created an  diversionary assignment that kept Josh out of the office for an hour and called Toby, Sam, CJ and Donna to his office. 

"I don't want any of you guys hounding Josh about whatever it is he did to himself, okay?"

They all agreed, without asking why.

"Yesterday, I called in a guy from the American Trauma Victims Association. He's going to sit with him and try to figure out what's going on."

"Do you think that's necessary?" inquired Sam. Right way he knew it was a ridiculous question. Josh needed help and they all knew it. Josh needed the type of help that none of them could provide

"Yeah, Sam," responded Leo. "This guys a professional. He knows what he's doing. He'll help him." _'Cause we sure as hell can't seem to   _Leo wanted to add.

Leo expected more questions or argument from his staff there was none. It was very uncharacteristic for them to be so quiet but this was uncharted territory and they were allowing Leo to lead the way.

"I talked with the guy yesterday. He seems okay. He told me that we shouldn't pressure Josh too much right now. Don't push him. Just watch and make sure he doesn't... you know..."

No one questioned Leo about what he meant.

"This guys, Stanley, is going to be flying in this afternoon. He's gonna want to spend some time with each of you before he sits down with Josh."

They all looked at each other. Everyone was uncomfortable with the suggestion. Finally, it was Donna who asked Leo why that was necessary. 

"Because he needs to get an idea from us about what Josh has been doing. What's different. What his behavior's been like...stuff like that."

"I'm sorry, Leo, but can I ask..." she interrupted Leo, very tentatively. 

"Of course," Leo answered.

"But..." she hesitated, "Does the President know?"

"Yeah, he knows. I told him." answered Leo.

She asked, "Is... Leo...," she had a difficult time answering the question. 

"It's okay. Donna. This isn't business. What is it?" Leo's tone had taken a very compassionate tone.

"Is Josh's job in jeopardy?" The question was not surprising coming from Donna. It wasn't a case of Donna asking because she was worried that if Josh lost his job, she would loose hers, too. She had reverted back to her protector persona that she had assumed for those months while he was recovering. She was only concerned with Josh and his future.

Leo gave her an answer that left no room for ambiguity. He annunciated every syllable clearly and with conviction, "_Absolutely not_."

The meetings with Stanley, from ATVA, took place the next day. It was a low key affair with each staffer slipping out for a couple hours as to not raise suspicion. Josh knew he was going to be sitting with an ATVA rep, but he did not know how involved his friends were. Had he known they would be sitting with Stanley as well, his reaction would not have been good. Even were Josh completely healthy, he most likely would not have taken kindly to people sitting in a room with a stranger discussing him. Nobody took comfort in speaking to Stanley, but they did it anyway.

In the three days after the Christmas Party and before he met with Stanley, Josh had become exceedingly withdrawn. CJ had brought this up with Stanley when she met with him. Stanley explained that this was perfectly normal behavior. He explained that before Leo had informed Josh that he would be meeting with someone from ATVA, Josh had not been aware of his own  behavior. Once his actions had been brought to his attention, however, he had become withdrawn in an attempt to control himself.  Stanley said that it could be a dangerous and stressful time because Josh now felt he had to monitor himself very carefully. It was easier to stay away then try to measure every interaction he had. This brought CJ no comfort. Afterward, she found herself watching him even more closely.

Josh finally met with Stanley. It was surprising that their meeting lasted eight full hours. The only person who saw Josh during the meeting was Donna. She would bring in coffee or water and ordered them lunch when they were ready for it. She talked to Josh as she always had and kept the worry out of her voice. Josh spoke back to her, but it was in short, clipped sentence and would not make eye contact at all. She took none of it personally, though. She couldn't imagine how uncomfortable must have been for him to find himself in this position. She knew he was full of self recrimination. She wanted so badly to tell him that the way he was feeling was not his fault. She wanted to tell him they were all there to support him. 

Though Sam, CJ and Toby all wanted to wait for Josh to get done with his session, Leo ordered them to go home. They argued, but he was firm. He didn't want Josh to be overwhelmed by their attention, no matter how well intentioned it was. He told him it was just going to be himself and Donna. They conceded and saw no unfairness that Donna was staying. They all understood her role in Josh's recovery and how naturally she fell into it. It was her place to take care of Josh tonight just had she had in the months before. 

Josh was surprised to see that Leo had waited for him. He was unaware of the depth of concern his fellow staffers had for him. He now knew that it was common knowledge among the senior staff that he had been having difficulties but he did not know how involved they were. That was their dynamic. That is how they operated. Josh, nonetheless, was touched that Leo waited and by the words he spoke to him. Donna was there, too, but he instinctively knew she would be. She led him off to the hospital against his protestations. 


	5. Part Four

**--PART FOUR-- (Winter/Spring 2001)**

For the next three months, Leo had insisted on asking Josh how he was doing every day. If it was a weekend day and Josh didn't need to come into the office, Leo would still call him at home and ask. It was a code between them. "How are you doing" was not the casual greeting between two friends. When Leo asked him, he was inquiring directly as to his recovery. Leo insisted on Josh's compete honesty. Only once did Josh breech that trust. He had shown up one morning in late January completely exhausted. He yawned his way through the staff meeting and when it was over, Leo had called him into his office. 

"How are you doing?" Asked Leo.

Josh knew the routine and answered, "I'm good."

Leo didn't buy it, "You were nodding off in the oval office."

"No, really. I just didn't sleep well last night."

"Josh..."

"Leo, really."

"Joshua," Leo never addressed him by his full name. Josh suddenly felt as if he were a kid lying to an angry parent who saw through his deception.

"Leo... I... I..." He hated talking about this.

"Did you have an episode?" Leo asked in his typical no nonsense way.

Josh hated admitting this, especially from a man whose respect he so deeply treasured. He relented, "Yeah... sirens," one hand fluttered up towards the ceiling.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"No"

"Go Home." Ordered Leo. 

"Leo, c'mon," whined Josh, "I've worked without sleep before."

"I don't care, go home."

"Leo, I have work to do." Josh wasn't giving up that easily.

"_Did you not hear me just say 'I don't care'_?" Leo shot back, firmly. "I'll see it's farmed out. Get your stuff, go home. Get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow. Don't make me call Donna in here."

Josh and Leo both laughed. They knew who the boss of Josh really was.

 "Yeah, Okay." Josh finally relented. He went home and slept peacefully the rest of the day.

The change in Josh wasn't miraculous or immediate. He struggled at first but performed his duties with his usual passion and enthusiasm. He felt as if he was coming out of a tunnel that he didn't realize that he had entered in the first place. Stanley had said that he had been "locked into damage control". That was a correct assessment. Stanley had, as he promised, recommended a therapist who Josh saw regularly for the first few months after his initial diagnosis. He had seen therapists in the past, but it had always been more an exercise that cleared his head and made him feel unburdened. Seeing a therapist for a actual, diagnosed affliction was an entirely different matter. 

At first, Josh was unforthcoming during his sessions, though he tried not to be. He hated having a label and talking about the shooting. He eventually opened up and the therapist taught him techniques for dealing with the panic caused by an episode. He also helped Josh understand that he had other triggers. The sound of sirens, flashing lights, loud noises were among the things that could start an attack. It was difficult because he didn't know these things were triggers until something would happen that would initiate an episode. 

Loud noises were a trigger he discovered very unexpectedly. He and Sam had gone to see matinee on a Sunday afternoon and the theatre's sound system was set to a completely unreasonable volume. One of the previews was for an upcoming action film and the level of chaotic noise was too much for Josh. When Sam realized that Josh was distressed, he escorted him, without a word, out of the theatre and into the restroom to allow him to have some privacy until the episode passed. When Josh emerged from the restroom he was somewhat pale, but he'd regained his composure. "You okay?" was all that Sam asked. Josh nodded affirmative and Sam gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. Sam then suggested they go get coffee in stead. They sat in an empty coffee house for two hours talking about trivialities and listening to a jazz trio practicing on a small stage near the back. Sam, mercifully, never questioned Josh about the attack that he had just witnessed. 

Josh never told Sam how much it meant to him that he was there that afternoon. It was the purest act of friendship he could have wished for.  Sam never attempted to force Josh to talk about the episode. Josh was surprised at how appropriately Sam had handled the attack. Josh had no doubt that his friend had probably scoured the world wide web to educate himself about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in the days after he learned of the Josh's diagnosis. Josh knew that that was the geeky way Sam would have deal with it.

Months passed and everything was returning to normal for Josh. Leo stopped asking how he was doing every day and the rest of the staff no longer tread so softly around him. Josh never found out about the depth and breadth of concern that his friends felt towards him during the previous holiday but he appreciated it. He did not ask them and they did not speak of it to him or to each other. During a therapy session late in February, Josh and his doctor discussed at length weather or not he, at any point, had truly suicidal, as Stanley had suggested.  They discussed the pain and the frustration and the helplessness he had experienced. Josh admitted that he desperately wanted an escape, but didn't think he was looking for death. He admitted that every day during that time period was unbearable. He said, however, that he never truly considered taking his own life. His therapist, after long consideration, agreed. It was this acknowledgement that made Josh feel he had truly becoming whole again.


	6. Part Five

**-Part Four (February 2003)**

"Hi, Margaret. Is he in there?" CJ just told Josh the news about the Carl Leroy interview and now she had come to tell Leo, too. 

"Yes. Go ahead in."

CJ poked her head around the door, "Leo?"

"Hey, CJ. What's up?" he asked. 

CJ stood in front of his desk an spoke, "20/20 has an interview with Carl Leroy."

"When will it air?" he asked the typical no-nonsense manner the entire staff had come to expect. 

"Tomorrow night," she confirmed.

"Okay. Have you told the president yet?"

"No. I just got the news a little while ago. ABC just sealed the interview. They'll start running promos during primetime tonight" explained CJ

"Okay." Leo took the news in stride, "It's not like we didn't expect it. I mean, he had a right to talk if he wants to."

"Yeah," she wanted to make a snide comment on repealing the first amendment, but there was no humor in it. "First interview, though. Who knows what he'll say."

"Nothing like stirring up demons, huh?" remarked Leo. 

"Speaking of demons…" started CJ, tentatively. 

Leo knew where this conversation was going. Everyone working in the west wing was scarred in some way by Roslyn. Two of their family had more than just metaphorical scars. "Yeah?" he prompted CJ to continue. 

"I told Josh about it."

"You told Josh first?" Leo wasn't offended at all by the fact that she had told his deputy the news before she had told him or the president. He was just curious about her motivation.

"Yeah. I wanted to make sure he didn't pick it up through the rumor mill, you know?"

"How'd he take it?" he inquired with genuine concern.

"He took it well," she answered. "Really well, I guess."

"Yeah?" His questioning answer suggested Leo wanted more information.

"I don't know…I don't know what I expected. I might as well have told him water is wet. He said 'Okay' and went back to work." there was the slightest hint of concern in her voice. 

"I'll stop by his office. Get a feel for what he thinks about it." reassured Leo. 

"And the president?" asked CJ.

"I'll mention it to him." he said. "he'll,  you know,  bluster about wanting to repeal the first amendment," CJ chuckled at hearing the comment she had just repressed come from Leo, "but he'll be fine with it."

"Thanks, Leo." she said and walked out of his office. 

As she walked down the corridors to her own office, a thought occurred to her. She loved these people she worked with as if they were family. She would, literally, do anything for them. Through the first campaign, through that trying first year, then Roslyn. Through Leo's rehab disclosure. Through Mrs. Landingham's death, the MS disclosure right through to  the 2nd campaign and election - the bond between the staff - especially the senior staff - was often times more profound than family. She had never before, and surely never again, be part of a dynamic like she was now a part.

However, for the all the closeness - for the ability they all had to guess each others moves - finish each other's sentences - predict each other's reactions - there was something missing. A big, gapping vacuum when it came to expressing those most basic and important of human emotions. Sure, there were outburst of anger on several levels every day. There was much laughter and companionship, too. Why, for the love of God, could they not communicate those things that were most important? Why could she not walk into Josh's office and simply say, "Josh, I am concerned how this interview will affect you. I am concerned and I love you and I don't want to see this hurt you?" Was it professionalism twisted into some perverted form? Would it be a distraction? Would it somehow undermine the greater mission they were trying to accomplish? 

She knew that whatever it was that kept them all in some form of emotional lock-down stemmed from the same primordial place that had sent her wandering alone through the streets of New York last spring after Simon was shot instead of seeking out the comfort of her brothers. 

CJ found herself in her office without realizing it. The thoughts that walked with her from Leo's office were more than she anticipated and cast a somberness on an otherwise uneventful afternoon. She wished Sam were here. Sam was Josh's best friend. She missed him so much. Some days it felt as they were pulling a Radio Flyer with a missing wheel. That was something else they never talked about. Josh was exceedingly proud of what Sam was trying to accomplish in California, but he still missed him. She missed Sam's poetic righteousness about the way he thought the world should be. Toby… Toby might as well had one of his limbs removed. He was more hurt by Sam's absence then he would ever admit to another living soul - even himself. In the very back, subconscious recess of her mind CJ hoped he'd loose the runoff election and come home. If he were here, he could talk to Josh.  He had the sensitivity and insight and history and would talk to Josh if she asked him. 

She picked up the phone and dialed. Two rings, three, four… finally, a familiar was on the other end of the line.

The sound of his voice mustered all the cheer she needed, "Hey, Spanky! It's CJ…"


	7. Part Six

**PART SIX (FRIDAY MORNING)**

"Josh?" This time it was Donna as his door looking pensive and concerned. It was six-thirty AM - early for even Donna to be here.

"Hey, you're here early," Josh commented. He sounded cheerful but tired, which was how he started most days. 

"Josh, I saw a promo on TV last night. Did you know that, on 20/20 tonight..." she spoke as if full disclosure was full of daggers.

"Yeah, I know."

"Why didn't you say anything?" She asked.

"What is there to say?" asked Josh. There was slightest suggestion of annoyance in his voice. It was a tone which Donna was impervious under trivial circumstances. Today, though, his tone made her tread lightly about the subject.

She thought at first the question was rhetorical, but by his gaze, she knew it wasn't. "I don't know," she answered honestly, "I thought you would have mentioned it to me."

"Why?" he asked. The conversational tone had turned so quickly to prosecutorial. Donna hadn't expected that. 

She held nothing back, "Because this is big, Josh. This guy wanted to kill you…"

"He wanted to kill Charlie," he corrected.

"Yeah, and he got you. And, I don't know…" she searched for the correct sentiment, "If I were you and this guy was going to go on TV and…"

"But you're not me." There was no inflection in his voice and Donna couldn't judge where this conversation was going.

"I know," was all she could think to say. She remained standing in the doorway with her eyes locked on Josh. It was clear she wasn't accepting the conversation as being over.

Josh finally relented. "Okay. Come in and shut the door."

His words came forth in one breathless statement, "Leo stopped by my office twice yesterday asking me if I was okay about the interview. Toby came by and asked me if I'm okay about the interview. CJ walked by my door three of four times yesterday and if she wasn't asking me if I was okay about the interview, she was giving me this weak little pity-smile. Sam called me yesterday and asked me if I'm okay about the interview. Look - I don't know how many ways or how many times I can explain to people, _I am okay about the interview_!" His voice had risen in volume by the end of his speech. It was not in anger, just in emphasis. 

"Josh…" she couldn't let it go. Josh rolled his eyes in exasperation. Donna said nothing.

"It's been almost three years, Donna!" he shouted at her in exasperation.

She sat down in front of Josh's desk and waited for him to continue.

"You know…" He paused, "You know…" he started again, but sounding slightly less comfortable. His voice had decrease to just above a whisper,  "When I, you know, sat with Stanley…"  this was excruciating ground for Josh. He had never discussed in detail his marathon session with anyone, not even Leo. He had only discussed it in generalities. Even that night when Donna took him to the emergency room, the details had been limited. 

Josh continued, "When Stanley gave me his diagnosis, I said 'That doesn't sound like something you can have and work for the president'."

"Post-Traumatic…" she said.

"Yeah," he resented every single time someone spoke those words out loud. Even when those words weren't spoken directly about him.

"Donna - it's like…"  he wanted to find the right words,  "Every time there is some thing about Roslyn…  Every time there is something about gun control. Every time a leader of some white supremacist group make some dumb-ass comment…."  his tone was full of disgust, "_Every single time_… people look at me differently. They wait for my reaction. It was okay before Christmas but then I sat with Stanley and you know how the crap like that travels. The day after Christmas every single person who works here knew that I had been diagnosed…  I'd been labeled…"

"So what, Josh…"  she was now sounding confrontational, "So what? They hurt you. It's something you might not ever be completely over…"

"_That's it!_"  he shot at her,  "That's it, exactly. When ever anything comes up, everyone looks at me like I'm damaged goods. Everyone _KNOWS_ is something I might not ever get over! I'm tired of being the poster boy!"     

"So we're supposed to not care?" she asked, sarcastically.

"You wanna know something, Donna?" he asked leaning forward as if to tell her a secret

Donna suddenly wasn't sure she wanted to know. Maybe it _was_ easier with Josh as a closed book. Easy or not, she nodded to indicate she was ready to hear what Josh had to say.

"You know that I can hear a door slam a dozen times and it doesn't do anything to me.  But…"  he hesitated and swallowed hard,  "but then there will be the one time and I just..."  he hesitated and swallowed hard before continuing,  "You know that I can be laying in bed and, every other night there is a siren that might go by my window and.… nothing,"  his hand fluttered through the air to emphasis his point as if trying to disperse a mist,  "but there'll be that one time. Maybe once a month, that a police car or ambulance goes by and the lights make patterns on my ceiling and…"

"Josh…" Donna half wanted to stem the tide of words, but knew she shouldn't. She was half sorry for digging out this revelation, but glad he was revealing it all to her.

"...the lights…  I'll be up all night. I'll be there for a few minutes or an hour but I grit my teeth. You know, it used to happen every time I heard a door slam or saw an ambulance or heard elevator music…"

"I know…"  confirmed Donna.

"but then it became every third time then every sixth time…"

"I know…"  she reiterated.

"We get better." Josh echoed the words that he had heard from Stanley what seemed so long ago. Josh smiled at Donna with his patented goofy grin. 

Donna smiled back. She had come to offer comfort and instead Josh had comforted her.

"Are you going to watch it?" She asked, hesitantly.

"I don't know. Maybe. Yeah. I don't know." 

"Okay," she could think of nothing else to say.

"You know how much it sucks riding in a presidential motorcade with all those lights an sirens…" he commented, with a chuckle.

Donna laughed a little at this. Josh was always good at leavening almost any situation.

"You have senior staff at eight. You'll need the memo on the thing and you meet with ways and mean at two…" Donna slipped back into business flawlessly and mentioned not another word to him about the interview.


	8. Finale

**FINALE (FRIDAY 8:55 PM)**

Josh decided only moments before the broadcast that he was, after all, going to watch. He walked to where Donna sat at her desk, "I'm gonna... you know... watch the thing."

"You sure?" she asked.

"I don't know," he responded softly.

"You can watch it out here with me if you want," she offered.

"No. No, thanks. I'm just gonna, you know, watch it in there, okay?" 

"You sure?" She asked again. She careful not to push him too much.

"Yeah. I guess," he said as he walked back to his office. He turned around before he reached the door, "I kinda want to do this alone, you know? Would you..." he made a vague gesture toward his door.

Most people wouldn't have understood what he meant, but Donna picked up on his gesture immediately. He wanted her to be his guard dog and keep people from knocking on his door.

"Sure," she responded, without question.

Alone in his office, he turned on the TV just in time for the title credits. Barbara Walters introduced the story.

There were quick video from Roslyn but it was all video Josh had seen before. They showed President Bartlet's photograph, followed by his own. The narrator spoke of their injuries. Josh chuckled when the narrator referred to them as "fully recovered."

The television now showed the West Virginia White Pride headquarters and the narration detailed some history of the hate group. Then there were photographs of the two young skin heads who had been shot and killed by the Secret Service detail seconds after they had opened fire. Next was a picture of Carl Leroy. The narrator explained how Leroy did not carry a gun that day, but admitted in court to being the gunmen's spotter on the ground.

"When we come back," said Barbara Walters, "Carl Leroy speaks for the first about the shooting in an exclusive interview..." 

There was a knock on the door surprised him.

"Yeah?" he shouted and the door opened. It was President Bartlet.

Josh stood.

"Sit, sit," said the president with a dismissive wave, softly he asked, "Can I come in?"

"Of course, sir." Josh was surprised to see him.

In an uncharacteristically sheepish, yet sensitive tone, the president asked, "Do you mind if I join you?"

"No, no... Of course not, sir." Despite his early statement about wanting to watch alone, he was sure that Donna would not stop the president from knocking on his door. It was an unforeseen event, but Josh found that he honestly didn't mind. He took an odd comfort in knowing President Bartlet was here now.

"I wasn't going to watch this," said the president as he took a seat. "I told Leo I wasn't going to ... told Abby I wasn't going to. But then, I don't know... I just changed my mind."

"Me too." confided Josh.

"CJ told me Donna's your watch dog tonight," commented the President.

Josh wondered how CJ knew he had told Donna he wanted to be alone. 

The president continued, "I snuck past. Told her that her shoes were untied and here I am. Oldest trick in the book," the president joked as the commercials played on. 

Josh laughed and said, sarcastically, "yeah, 'cause I'm sure had she seen you try to come in here she would have been all up in your face." 

The two men laughed at the image of Donna going toe-to-toe with The President of the United States in an attempt to keep him out of her bosses office.

"Well, actually, I slipped her a twenty and, you know," joked the president again.

"Yeah, I always knew she had a price."

A Pepsi commercial with a happy, dancing Brittany Spears. 

A Ford Truck commercial.... _Like a rock_

"What made you decided to watch?" asked the president.

"I don't know."

"Me either."

A Pizza hut commercial.

The show returned with and exterior shot of the federal penitentiary where Carl Leroy was incarcerated. There was narration of his trial and sentence as shots of the interior halls and cells were shown in an attempt to set mood.

Then the view changed to the interior of a small room. The door opened and in walked a young man. Carl Leroy. He looked very different than what Josh had seen before. He was tall and lanky but actually looked younger and softer than Josh remembered. He no longer sported the bald head but, instead, he had sandy blond hair cut neatly above his ears. His features that had, in previously seen pictures, seemed sharp and harsh, were softened. He sported a pair of nondescript wire rimmed glasses on his hawk-like nose. His expression startled Josh. He looked sad. Not angry and hate filled, like Josh had expected. He just looked sad. 

A few pleasantries were exchanged between the interviewer and Leroy before the questioning got underway.

"You didn't carry a gun that day, correct?"

"No, Ma'am" he answered, with a soft, southern drawl.

Josh and President Bartlet watched in silence.

"You were the spotter, on the ground."

"Yes, Ma'am."

His politeness was stunning.

The interview continued. He was questioned as to his motive and involvement in the hate group. He talked about the events leading up to the shooting, about the two gunmen who were killed. They were all very standard questions. The young man claimed he had renounced white supremacy in the two and a half years he had been incarcerated. He explained how he had idolized the boys who brought him into the organization and it made him feel like a man. He said that he's working on his GED and reads the bible.   

After a few minutes, the scene changed to the exterior of the Newseum. In the interest of good narration, the producers had seen fit to retell in detail the events of the shooting. The film was one that had been replayed over and over again. It had been shot by a local news affiliate and had been distributed throughout the nation. 

There was the President at the rope line. There was Toby. There was CJ. There was Sam. There was Leo. "GUN!" Shots rang out the picture jarred as the camera man must have been shoved. More shots could be heard. The camera was on the ground. The camera was picked up. The presidential limonene was shown speeding away. People stood. There was Toby. Leo was pushed into a car and sped away. There was Sam. There was CJ with her hand to her head. All looked dazed and scarred.

Josh could never see himself in these videos.

He'd seen it several times while he was recovering. Josh thought about the early days of his recovery and how, in his waking hours, he flipped though the news channels in an attempt to try to gain some perspective on what had happened to himself. Visitors worried about this odd obsession, he knew, but only teased him about it. 

The narrators voice continued,  "...but the charges against Carl Leroy could have been higher. Instead of facing 10-15 years for accessory to _attempted  _first degree murder, had Deputy Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman, the most critically injured, not survived..."

Josh had never understood why showing the injured and the broken contributed to the relevance of a news story. Did it make it easier for the viewing public to internalize the drama of the events? Was it for ratings? Josh had never seen the next clip. How could he have missed it in those hours he had spent scouring the networks for news of the shooting? He had never seen it until now. 

"I need a doctor!" Toby's voice cut through the confusion and the frame spun around and focused on Toby. He was at a distance as, at that time, the press had been pushed back across the street. He saw Sam and CJ run up the stairs. He saw Toby crouch down just in time to catch a slouched over form in a gray suit. His form.

_That was a nice suit, too- _thought Josh as he watched the film.

Paramedics rushed up the stairs in seconds. Toby, CJ and Sam were shoved aside. They huddled together and watched. Toby had one arm around CJ and one around Sam. Their backs were to the camera. He couldn't see himself as he was surrounded by paramedics. A backboard disappeared into the huddle. The paramedics stood. There he was on the gurney. Paramedics adeptly rushed the gurney down the steps. Getting closer to the camera. There was his three friends. The gurney rushed by the camera. There he was for the briefest fraction of a second. Cervical Collar. Oxygen Mask. His hand reaching up for the mask. The gurney rushed by and was hoisted through and ambulance door. It was a chaos of inaudible shouts and motion.

_That didn't look like me_-

The scene cut back to Carl Leroy in the interview room where a small TV played the video.

The interviewer on the television asked, "Have you seen this video before?"

"No..." answered Josh, as if the interviewer on the other side of the screen had addressed the question to him instead of Leroy. Josh could see, out of the corner of his eye, the president turn to face him and examine his profile. Josh had not realized how fast his respiration had become while he watched the video or that his heart was beating so fast and hard. He was sure the president could count his pulse from where he sat. Knowing he was being scrutinized, he forced himself to relax his posture, unfurrow his brow and slow his breathing. If he knew how to slow his heartbeat, he would have done that, as well. He could feel the president's scrutiny, but did not turn to look at him.

"Yes. I saw it at my trial." Carl Leroy answered the question that had been intended for him instead of Josh.

"And," asked the interviewer, "how did you feel the first time you saw it?"

"I was happy. I thought it was a victory. I thought I was a hero." Leroy's words cut through Josh and elicited a disgusted snort from the president.

"And when you watch it now?" asked the interviewer.

There was a long pause. Carl Leroy's face hung squarely in the middle of the screen. His lips tightened and quivered. "I feel sorry."

That was not what either Josh or the president was expecting. Josh could see the president turn and face the television again.

"I feel very sorry. I'm glad they didn't die. I'm sorry I hurt them. I'm sorry for all the pain I caused. I did a very bad, horrible thing and I'm sorry. I don't know if they can ever forgive me but I hope they do 'cause I'm really, really, sorry for what I done." Leroy's words came with a thick drawl and inarticulate simplicity. His language usage spoke of the poorly educated. "I know they probably can't. I know I can't forgive myself but I'm sorry..."

Barbara Walters returned to the screen, "When we come back, we'll hear from Carl Leroy's parents...."

Josh found the remote on his desk and turned off the television. His breathing was regular and his heart was no longer threatening to escape his chest. 

Josh and President Bartlet sat in silence for many minutes. Josh, once again, could see from the corner of his eye that the President was looking at him, but said nothing. He finally turned to the president and, in a soft, hesitant voice asked, "Do you?"

"Forgive him?" the president clarified his question.

"Yeah."

"I pity him. I pity his family. He was young. He walked down the wrong road and I believe he's sorry. But forgive? I don't know..."

They sat for a moment longer until Josh stood up. The president watched him. Josh put on his coat. He then took a few files from his desk. He stuffed the files into his backpack and slung the pack over his shoulder. 

The president stood up as Josh crossed from behind his desk. Before he reached the door, President Bartlet stepped directly in front of him. The president examined the younger man's face. His brow was furrowed. As they stood face to face, Josh's expression changed under the scrutiny. He relaxed. He felt something deep within himself release and the slightest warmth creep into his chest. It was barley perceptible, but Josh felt it, nonetheless. 

"What about you? Do you forgive him?"

Josh continued looking into the eyes of the president. He turned and looked at the blank television, then back at the president. 

"I.." Josh hesitated.  _Not quite yet_,  he thought,  "I think I might, someday. Someday... I might."  He smiled a warm, honest smile. It was the first time he had ever thought about the shooting and smiled. It was an odd sensation but, now, it felt right.

The president reached up and gave Josh a tight squeeze on his arm. He returned the smile. "All right, then," he said and stepped aside.

Josh opened his door expecting to see his guard dog, Donna, sitting alone at her desk watching the interview. Donna was there, but also CJ and Toby, Charlie and Leo. They had all assembled in his bullpen. The interview with Carl Leroy's parents was playing on the televisions overhead, but everyone's attention turned to Josh. The president exited Josh's office behind him and everyone who wasn't already standing stood up. 

Josh stood next to the president and regarded the assembled group. Donna took a step toward him with a concerned look on her face, but when she saw his slight smile and relaxed demeanor, she sheepishly smiled back, confused. CJ smiled slightly, understandingly. Charlie, who had always carried so much guilt about the shooting, shot Josh a wary look. Josh smiled and nodded at him and Charlie smiled back. Toby's stare could have drilled a whole through him with it's intensity but he gave Josh a slight nod. Josh looked toward Leo, who looked him up and down. He smiled widely at his deputy.

_as long as I've got a job, you've got a job_ echoed in Josh's ear.

Josh looked at his friends for a moment longer.

"Okay, well...I'll see you guys Monday.  Call my cell if you need anything."

He turned and started to walk down the hall.

"Josh.." called Donna and started after him, but the gentle hand of President Bartlet on her arm stopped her.

"He'll be fine." President Bartlet told her. "He'll be fine."

Without turning around, Josh lifted one hand and gave a jaunty wave over his shoulder. His familiar, arrogant swagger carried him out of the West Wing. His friends watched him go.  

END


End file.
